


Jordan Parrish's 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski

by dragon_temeraire



Series: Teen Wolf Bingo [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Deputy Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, Future Fic, Hellhound Jordan Parrish, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Pack Nights, a few years later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-13
Updated: 2016-02-13
Packaged: 2018-05-20 02:30:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5989033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragon_temeraire/pseuds/dragon_temeraire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jordan has a plan and Stiles is suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jordan Parrish's 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Stiles rarepair week and teen wolf bingo (“Stiles/Jordan” + “movie night”)

“Dude, what is up with Parrish?”

“What do you mean?” Scott asks. “What’s he doing?”

“He said he’s coming to pack night, for one!” Stiles huffs, throwing his hands in the air.

“So? What’s wrong with him coming to pack night?” Scott asks reasonably. “He’s helped us out a lot over the years. I consider him an honorary pack member.”

“That’s not what I meant! He’s a great guy, no doubt. I mean, why is he showing up _now_?” Stiles says.

“Oh!” Scott says, grinning. “That’s easy. He asked me where you were every Wednesday night, and I told him we had weekly pack get-togethers. So he asked me if he could come.”

“And you said yes,” Stiles cuts in.

“Of course I did. Like you said, Jordan’s a great guy. And I think it’d be good for him to be around people like us, who understand the supernatural. Besides, he looks like he could use a chance to just chill.”

“Yeah, good point. Maybe he’s looking for an excuse to be around Lydia,” Stiles muses.

“Dude, you know he’s been over her for years. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, because she’s dating Malia,” Scott says.

“Trust me, I _know_ ,” Stiles says. “Malia likes to call me up and tell me all these sordid details.”

Scott raises his eyebrows. “Can I get in on these phone calls?”

“Dude, no!” Stiles says, giving Scott a playful shove. “Those calls are my burden to bear. Besides, you have a girlfriend. You don’t need any sexy phone calls.”

Scott looks like he wants to argue, but lets it go. “What else has Jordan done?”

“Yesterday, right after he told me he was coming to pack night, he gave me a cupcake. It had a smiley face on it!” He says, outraged.

Scott just laughs. “Was it good?”

“It was _delicious_ ,” Stiles concedes. “But that’s not the point. The day before that, he’s eating lunch at his desk, and I’m working and minding my own business. He gets up and says ‘the burger place gave me an extra order of fries, do you want them’?”

“You took them, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did! They were _curly fries_ ,” Stiles says reverently.

Scott nods, acknowledging the greatness of curly fries. “Wait a minute. Did you have lunch that day?”

“Er, no.” Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “I got distracted working.”

“So Jordan found a way to feed you without insulting your pride.” Scott looks impressed.

“How devious. And just today, he offered to cover my late shift because I looked _tired_. Seriously, what is going on?”

“Sounds like you’re mad that Jordan’s being nice you,” Scott says.

“I just want to know why. I’m beginning to suspect an ulterior motive.”

Scott looks at him kindly. “I think you can trust him. Maybe he’s just looking for a friend. He seems kind of lonely.”

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe you’re right. I think I’ll wait and see how this plays out. But if he asks me to join his super-secret fight club or something, I’m calling you!”

Scott laughs. “It’s a deal.”

 

*

 

Jordan arrives at pack night carrying five boxes of pizza. He puts a bag of breadsticks directly into Stiles’ hands and says, “You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.” Then he just casually walks away. Stiles stares after him even as he shoves the first breadstick into his mouth.

It doesn’t take long before the smell of garlic lures Scott to his location. He reaches for the bag, which Stiles snatches away, cradling it against his chest. “No way, dude! He said I didn’t have to share.”

“Who did?”

“Jordan!” He exclaims, throwing himself down on the end of the couch. He curls up his legs, protecting the breadsticks from Scott.

“Oh, did he?” Scott says, smirking.

“Did someone call my name?” Jordan asks, walking out of the kitchen. He hands Stiles a plate of pizza, a root beer, and a stack of napkins. “You looked busy,” he says by way of explanation, and walks back to the kitchen.

“Uh, thanks!” Stiles calls after him. He’s distracted, staring after Jordan, until Scott’s snickering catches his attention. “What’s so funny?”

“I think I solved the mystery,” Scott says.

“Are you Scooby Doo now? What mystery?”

“The mystery of why Jordan is being nice to you,” Scott says smugly.

“Oh. Well, what’s the answer?”

“I’m not telling. You’ll figure it out, Velma,” he says, ruffling Stiles’ hair. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

“Am I interrupting something?” Jordan asks, looking at them curiously. He’s leaning against the other end of the couch, plate of pizza in hand.

“You just interrupted Scott being a terrible friend, so no big deal,” Stiles says, waving a hand dismissively in Scott’s direction.

Scott rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Stiles. I’m gonna get some food now.” Stiles watches him go, feeling victorious.

“You mind if I sit here?” Jordan asks, gesturing to the couch.

“No, man, feel free,” Stiles says. Though he can’t help but notice that the other couch and the armchairs are mostly unoccupied. Malia’s the only other person in the living room. Maybe they made seating arrangements while they were all in the kitchen. He’ll roll with it. “So, not that I mind, but why did you bring me my own bag of breadsticks?”

Jordan sat down next to him. “Scott told me the story of one of your first pack nights. He said you brought pasta and breadsticks, but everyone was so hungry that they ate them all, and you didn’t get a single one. It was a deeply moving tragedy,” he says, deadpan.

Stiles can’t help but laugh. “Well, it sucks to have pasta, but no delicious bread to go with it!” He peeks into the breadstick bag, then offers it to Jordan. “Want one?”

“I don’t have any pasta, but sure. Thanks.” He takes one cautiously.

“So answer me this,” Stiles says, just as Jordan’s about to take a bite. “Why did you want to come to pack night?”

“I wanted to get to know you better,” Jordan says promptly.

“Me? But you already know me. We work together!”

“Work isn’t the best place to form friendships,” Jordan says, taking a bite of bread. “Besides we hardly ever get to talk about anything besides cases.”

“That’s a fair point. But why me?”

Jordan shrugs. “You understand the job. You know what it means to have a bad day at work. Despite your sarcasm, you care a lot about people. You always try to do the right thing. And you’re pretty funny.”

Stiles pokes him in the shoulder, grinning. “How can you say that to me? You never laugh at my jokes!”

“I do,” Jordan says, pointing to his stoic face, “on the inside.”

“Well, maybe you should try laughing on the outside occasionally. I always thought my sarcastic commentary annoyed you.”

“No, not at all. Sorry you thought that. I’m just not a very expressive person, as you’ve probably noticed.” He cleared his throat. “I was also going to say that you know what I am, which is pretty important. You won’t freak out if I start to look…”

“Like Johnny Storm?” Stiles finishes.

“Who?”

Slapping his hand dramatically to his forehead, Stiles flops back on the couch as though he’s fainted. “Look, you really need to come to my house sometime. So we can watch Fantastic 4.”

“Sure,” Jordan says easily. “I’m off at three on Friday.”

Stiles pulls his hand away from his face, shocked. “Really?” He sits back up. “Okay, come over around five. I’ll have food and drinks, so you don’t have to bring anything.”

“Sounds good,” Jordan says, just as Scott bursts in from the kitchen at a run, shielding his plate of pizza. Kira follows at a more sedate pace, carrying a large bowl of salad.

“Anybody want some of this before I dump it over Scott’s head?” she asks sweetly.

“I do,” Jordan says, extending his plate.

“Traitor!” Stiles hisses, snickering. Kira immediately scoops a pile of lettuce onto his last slice of pizza. She then places a neat serving on Jordan’s plate. Stiles picks up his slice, still covered in salad, and takes a bite. “Ooh, its Caesar!” he exclaims, and keeps eating it.

Lydia picks a movie as Kira diligently piles up half of Scott’s plate with salad. Malia tells Lydia they could watch something without dancing this time. Lydia sticks out her tongue and puts Footloose in anyway. Scott’s just leaning against the couch, laughing at Kira’s mock-serious face. She doesn’t crack a grin until the bowl is empty, but then she looks over and starts laughing at Scott.

Their laughter is infectious, and Stiles fights the urge to giggle. He really loves pack night.

Leaning close, Jordan whispers “are they always like this?”

“Sometimes they’re worse,” Stiles says cheerfully. “Welcome to pack night. There’s never a dull moment,” he says, patting Jordan on the back.

 

*

 

He keeps looking at the clock. He taps his fingers on the counter and checks his phone again. The last message from Jordan is _see you at 5_. He shouldn’t be nervous. He’s known Jordan for ages, and they work together, so really they’re practically friends. Or something like that.

He startles when the doorbell rings. He takes a running start from the living room and slides across the hardwood floor. Throwing open the front door dramatically, he exclaims “Hi, Jordan!”

“Hello, Stiles,” Jordan says, unflappable as ever. None of Stiles’ antics ever seem to faze him. “I know you said not to bring anything, but…” He holds up a container of ice cream. “I figured you’d appreciate this.”

Stiles accepts the ice cream, tilting the carton to read the label. “Fudge ripple! I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he says, putting it in the freezer.

“Someone told me it was your favorite,” Jordan says, giving him a small smile.

“I gotta stop telling Scotty all my secrets,” Stiles says, grinning. “Let’s get the movie going. Dinner’s in the oven, we can eat in thirty.” He heads into the living room, and presses play once Jordan has joined him on the couch.

The watch The Fantastic Four while enjoying Stiles’ Santa Fe casserole, and even have a little fudge ripple for dessert.

“Well,” Stiles says as the credits roll, “at least now you’ll know what I mean when I yell _flame on!_ at you.”

“Just call me Johnny Storm,” Jordan says boldly, doing his best impersonation.

Stiles laughs. “We’re definitely watching the sequel. You need to develop a repertoire of Johnny Storm quotes. It’ll be a great inside joke.”

“Okay, let’s watch it tonight,” Jordan says, turning toward Stiles on the couch. He looks very serious. “But first. The new Batman movie is coming out next weekend. Would you like to go see it with me?”

Stiles looks at him oddly. “You don’t really like Batman. Wouldn’t you rather see the James Bond flick?”

“I would, that’s true. But since I’m asking you on a date, I want to do something you like,” Jordan says patiently.

Stiles is so startled, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Is this a joke? Is there a hidden camera somewhere?” He makes a show of looking around suspiciously.

Jordan looks taken aback. “Why would you think that?”

Stiles shrugs. “I’m just surprised, is all. You’re a mature, responsible adult, and I’m…kind of a mess, really. Not to mention, you’re way out of my league.”

“Stiles, there are no leagues,” Jordan says softly. “I like you. I like who you are, and I’d like to have a chance to know you better.” He thinks for a moment, then reaches into his wallet and pulls out a piece of paper. “Here, this should prove it,” he says, handing it to Stiles.

Carefully unfolding it, he notices the absurdly long title first: _Jordan Parrish’s 7 Step Plan for Wooing Stiles Stilinski_. He can’t help but smile. What a dork.

Every number on the list except 7 has a check mark next to it. Each entry is neatly written, but some of them have messily-scribbled notes next to them. He carefully reads the entire thing:

 

  1. Listen to him. ( _This should be easy, he loves to talk_ )
  2. Pay attention to his interests.
  3. Be honest. ( _He will doubt you if you lie_ )
  4. Give him a small gift, something he likes. ( _He likes food. And “nerd stuff”_ )
  5. Show him you care.
  6. Spend time with him.
  7. Ask him out!



 

 

“This is a good plan,” Stiles says, trying to keep a straight face. “I like it. My plans usually involve a timeline, but still.” He thinks for a moment. “However, I’m pretty sure your plan is missing something.” He fishes a pen out from under the couch and, in a very secretive manner, adds something to Jordan’s list. He folds it once and hands it back.

Opening it, Jordan finds that Stiles has added a number 8 to the bottom of the list. Next to it, in large block letters, it says _KISS HIM!_

He grins when Stiles moves pointedly closer on the couch. He reaches out and strokes his fingers along Stiles’ cheek. “Guess that’s a yes to the date, then?” He leans forward and kisses Stiles right as he starts to agree.

Jordan’s caught him by surprise, but he recovers quickly. He lets his tongue brush against Jordan’s, teasing, savoring. It feels amazing, and he curls his fingers into Jordan’s shirt, trying to pull him closer. He kisses him deeper and swears he can actually feel the temperature rising. He pulls back, panting, but leaves his arms looped around Jordan’s shoulders.

Jordan is breathing hard, too. His cheeks are flushed, and his lips look plush and tempting. When he opens his eyes, his irises are nothing but burning flame.

“Wow, that’s _really sexy_ ,” Stiles says, and kisses him again.

They can watch the sequel tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come by and prompt me/talk to me [ on tumblr ](http://dragon-temeraire.tumblr.com/).


End file.
